


Instruments of Flight

by liusaidh_writing



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Death, F/M, Please read the disclaimer...., Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liusaidh_writing/pseuds/liusaidh_writing
Summary: After a viral outbreak of unknown origin spirals out of control all over the world, healthcare workers in the UK are deemed essential, and eventually staying at their jobs in hospitals becomes compulsory. To leave means to become a deserter, a felon in the eyes of the government. To stay means certain death. Doctor Claire Beauchamp, a medical professional in London, is forced to make this difficult decision. Finding herself at the mercy of a group of individuals willing to help smuggle people like her out of the danger zones in an effort to save their lives, she seizes the opportunity, finding herself sent to a large, mostly empty farm. Avoiding arrest, trapped indoors during a never-ending winter, guilt eats away at her and and she struggles to remain afloat. Jamie Fraser, the owner of Lallybroch, battles his own demons after years of solitude. Can they give one another a chance at life?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 47
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is, to some degree, inspired by the last year, where we’ve all struggled in our own way with Covid-19. I am aware that this is a heavy topic, and I want you to know that death and perhaps some mild violence will be included in this story. If you have been impacted in any way by Covid-19, or if death and violence aren’t your cup of tea, please use discretion when reading. As I post each chapter, I will include any trigger warnings that may be present in said chapter. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask!
> 
> *** NEW CHAPTERS WILL BE POSTED EVERY TUESDAY ***

Claire dreamed of the hospital. Long corridors full of beds, patients lining the narrow walkway lined with fluorescent lights. The cries of agony from those that could manage it rang in her ears as she took a deep breath, her throat constricting as the odor of antiseptic filled her lungs. She often dreamed these hospital dreams - her only world for three years. She’d hated how she could never wash the smell from her clothes, or her skin. Now it was simply a part of her - a telltale sign of her life’s work. One she now wanted to shed at any cost. 

The men, wearing protective gear in case the test was positive, had come at around one in the morning, as planned. They found her sitting in her kitchen chair, waiting. They scooped the envelope of cash up, stuffed it roughly in a pocket. Claire hoped it would keep a family afloat - they needed it more than she did. They’d not uttered a word, quickly administering the test. Pricking her left index finger, a small bead of blood appeared, and one man pressed her finger to a small glass vial. They waited, staring at the vial. The liquid inside mingled with Claire’s blood, turning a dark blue. The test was negative. She let out a breath, and with a pound of her fists on her thighs to fortify herself, she stood, wrapping herself in her warmest coat, and nodded. It was time to leave.

The men ushered her out the door and made their way to a dark-colored van parked in a poorly lit corner of the garage attached to her building. The back was hers - she had a blanket to lie on, and one to cover herself with. One man mumbled something about checkpoints to her, and the other gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he threw the top blanket over her. Claire had known it would be a long ride, at least twenty-four hours that included a lot of stopping in dark car parks and hidden dirt roads to time her arrival just right. Burrowing into the blankets as best she could, she made herself as comfortable as possible, but she hadn’t expected to sleep at all. 

Claire dozed off and on throughout, one lucid dream after another flashed in her mind as she felt the rough road knocking the van back and forth. Whenever she needed the facilities, they’d allow her out at a service area that was picked carefully in advance. The roads were near empty no matter the time of day, but it was safer to be cautious as the men moved her north.

Now, her head knocked against the floor of the van as the tires hit a hole in the road. Jerked from sleep, she gasped for air as she pulled the blanket from her face. One of the men, again wearing a mask and gloves, nodded at her. 

“You’ve made it, Doctor Beauchamp.” 

Claire sat up, half dazed, and quickly adjusted her mask as she made her way out of the back of the van, its double doors slamming shut behind her. Her boots crunched in the snow, and she filled her lungs with an icy breath of air that froze as she exhaled. Pausing, Claire glancing up at the lone lit window of the unassuming inn. She turned, watching the van drive away - she was alone now, standing in the snow-covered street, clutching her few belongings in a duffle bag. She shook in the cold and made her way to the back of the building as quietly as possible. It was nearly two in the morning, an entire day had passed since she’d left her own flat. The time in the van had passed quickly, adrenaline keeping her from feeling anything but raw energy in the time that she was awake. 

Now the fear crept in. Claire focused on the back door, the knob slightly slick with ice as she tried to pull it open. Her hand slipped off, but she tried again and a gust of warm air hit her at once as she opened the door into a narrow hallway lined with an old Persian rug running its length. Closing the door quickly behind her, she inched her way down the hall until she eyed someone - a man - at the front desk, ahead to her left. She paused, holding her breath, wondering if she should let her presence be known, or if she should tuck herself away. The written instructions she’d received weeks before leaving she recalled word for word, yet the stress of just being here was enough to make her mind go blank. What if it was a trap? What if someone found out about her plans and this was an elaborate ruse to get her back where they felt she belonged? She shuddered a bit, imagining what was happening at the hospital in her absence.

_ Hospital staff slumped in corners, exhausted, catching their breath when they could. Sticking needles in clammy skin, administering morphine or some other painkiller to ease suffering. It was all they could do, being entirely powerless against the virus. It was always deafeningly loud, with people moving here and there, cries of desperation echoing down the halls. A twenty hour shift without so much as a place to sit for the majority of that time was enough to make the strongest person crumple under the endless string of patients hastily brought in, all hoping for a miracle that wasn’t to come. _

Just as she turned to make her way back outside, fear running through her veins, she heard a voice. 

“Are you Doctor Beauchamp?” 

She turned to see the man from the front desk coming towards her, a kind smile on his face. She took a step back as she noticed he wasn’t wearing a mask. His hand went out, beckoning for her to follow him. So she did.

Making her way through the small area behind the front desk, he ushered her into a small room, hidden from view by a strategically placed shelf that held dozens of travel brochures. She surveyed the room and wondered how long she would be here. The man who’d greeted her smiled, nodding around the room. He gave an apologetic look before speaking.

“It isn’t much, I’m sorry, but we’ve not the funds to furnish this space just yet. It’s yours for now, though. Please, make yourself as comfortable as possible, though I know that’s quite an ask. I’ll have my wife bring in some food, and perhaps a pillow and blankets?” He smiled again, making his way to the door, leaving Claire alone.

Claire’s bones were ice, she was sure of it, but she heaved a sigh of relief as she took a seat on the hardwood floor of the back room at the inn. It was devoid of any furniture, save a small stack of metal chairs in one corner, and also a small hearth, with half-burned logs long since gone out. Peeling off her shoes and socks, she wasn’t quite comfortable enough to remove any of her many layers, so she sat huddled against the wall in her heavy, fur-lined coat, wishing the fireplace had been lit. But she couldn’t make such a request. To be cold and uncomfortable was her penance, or part of it anyway, and she felt she deserved every second.

The door opened, Claire’s tired eyes shooting up to eye the person who’d entered the room. It was the man at the front desk, again. He gave a small smile to his newest guest - if they could consider her a guest - as he held up a few logs and built the fire Claire had desperately wanted. 

“Freezing out there, isn’t it?” he said, making small talk as Claire nodded. “I’m Ian, by the way - Ian Murray. My wife and I own the place.”

“Thank you for the fire, Ian. It’s been a long night… or whatever this is. I barely know what day it is anymore.” 

Ian nodded at Claire, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“I am sorry we can’t give you a proper room, but you understand. It’s not entirely… safe.” 

Claire nodded again, her stomach rumbling with hunger as she crept slowly toward the fire, while the innkeeper made his way to the door. 

“Thank you,” she said in a low tone, still on edge but calming as she felt the warmth of the fire against her chilly hands. “I noticed...you’re not wearing any gear. Is it cleared here, then?” 

“Aye, well...as clear as it can be? We’ve not had a case for over a month, if I recall. People live rather an isolated life out here, so that helps. We do our best to test new arrivals - mostly Security Officers and the like. We were assured you were tested as well… correct?”

“Oh, yes.” Claire held up her left index finger, wrapped in a small band-aid. 

Ian nodded again and smiled as he closed the door behind him. 

Claire relaxed again, her body warming as she sat by the fire. Her feet were no longer cold, and she removed her coat. She leaned her head against the warm stone and closed her eyes. She didn’t dare sleep, but it felt good to rest her eyes.

The door to her little room opened again, this time by a woman Claire hadn’t seen yet. She was slightly shorter than Claire, with dark hair tied up in a messy ball resting atop her head. She hurried in, carrying a plate of fragrant food. Claire’s mouth watered, and the woman set the plate in front of her on the stone flags of the hearth. 

“Hi there, I’m Jenny, Ian’s wife,” she said, making a quick introduction. Claire gave her a grateful smile from her spot on the floor. “Here you are, some food. You just worry about gaining your strength again - we’re working on lining up a place for you to go. It’ll be sorted, promise.” She patted Claire’s shoulder as she stood again. “I’ll go gather some bedding for you.” 

Claire smiled, watching the woman leave again. She waited until the door wash shut before picking up the fork the woman had included with the plate and shoveling the buttery scrambled eggs into her mouth like she’d not eaten in weeks. Truth be told, she’d not tasted anything so heavenly as an egg in a long while. All her meals in the past year had been processed institution food served to her at the hospital during her short meal breaks. Seasoned with pepper and salt, the eggs melted in Claire’s mouth; homemade bread, smeared with jam, was warm and soft.

Emptying her plate and setting it on the hearth, Claire rifled through her duffle bag, searching for the shoe box in which she had carefully placed her most important possessions. Pulling it out, she opened the lid and retrieved her hospital identification tag. Her photo was in the bottom left, an older photo from several years prior. Beaming an optimistic smile, the Claire in the photo was a stranger now. Her hair was longer then, back before her world had changed so drastically, and Claire recalled fondly her decision to cut it once, on a whim. She’d taken scissors to it in the bathroom after it had gotten in the way one too many times. Now, Claire ran her hand through her wavy brown hair, just shy of her shoulders. It was wild, uncontrollable, but the sudden memory made her wish more than anything that she had her long hair again, a piece of her old self: the doctor, fresh out of medical school, who determinedly tried to make a difference, to save lives. She took the thick card stock out of the plastic holder and tossed it into the fire.

Here, in the back room of an inn, she felt like nothing more than a coward. Running from the very thing that had given her life purpose, she felt empty, her soul black and shattered. Since deciding to flee, she wondered what she’d do. She certainly couldn’t call herself a doctor. Claire licked her lips, savoring the last bit of flavor still on her tongue, forcing the fear to the back of her mind with a deep breath. She briefly wondered when she’d eat like that again.

Soon, Jenny was back with two fluffy pillows and several warm blankets. Claire thanked her, and immediately began making a pallet on the floor, ready to collapse for as long as she was able. 

The stress of the day was catching up with her, and as she’d been able to ignore it for the long ride to this inn, it was seeping into her brain as she thought about the ramifications of what she’d actually done. She craved sleep, yet her mind kept darting back and forth - she’d already decided, hadn’t she? There was no turning back, no throwing her hands up and walking back into the home she’d never see again... well, at least not that she knew of. She knew, deep down, that if she’d stayed, she’d likely die.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“I got a new one in today, Jamie.” 

Jenny Murray spoke softly over the phone, her brother on the other line already groaning at the suggestion she’d not yet made.

“Is it a puppy? I’ll take one of those.”

“It’s a woman, a doctor from London. No children, no spouse.”

“You’re not suggesting… “

“I’m  _ merely _ suggesting that she needs a place to go - and you have plenty of room. Come on, Jamie. I worry about you in that big old house, all by yourself. It’ll do you some good. Anyway, she likely wouldn’t linger. From what I hear, most of them somehow make it out of the country.”

That last bit Jenny had made up entirely. No one left the country, she was certain. She did not know where the deserters wound up after they disappeared off her radar. She had no actual way to keep track, but she worried endlessly about her brother - the stubborn man that he was. Doctor Beauchamp was the first deserter they’d housed in months, and she was eager to place her. It was risky work taking them in, especially in a town, at an inn, open to the public. She was always anxious about the Security Officers, whose job it was to drag the deserters back to whatever hell they’d attempted to escape. She was near certain that they’d find out about their operation and shut it down, eventually.

“Please… Jamie, for me? It would ease my worries considerably, and you know you’d be doing a good thing. It’s less risky where you are, not to mention you’ve no risk of catching the virus.”

“And what do you suppose having her in the house would do for me?”

“God, Jamie - you need companionship, and no, I’m not talking about the animals you keep in the back of the house. You need human interaction, you need to laugh… do you know how long it’s been since I heard you laugh?”

Jenny heard Jamie sigh on the other end, and she let her shoulders relax, knowing she’d won him over.

“I don’t know, no. What’s there to laugh about in the world, anyway? Fine, if it’ll make you get off my back, I’ll come get the lass, and I’ll bring those things you’ve been asking for.” 

Jenny sighed with relief, hoping to God she was right in sending this woman to her brother’s house. She figured at the very least that Jamie might talk to someone regularly, instead of that damned mule he loved so much. Not to mention the dog, the chickens, and the horses. They were his family, and Jenny knew he was in dire need of a human connection.

“Thank you, Jamie. Thanks so much. I’ll let her know.” 

“What’s her name?”

“Doctor Claire...Beauchamp,” Jenny said, sifting through the paperwork on the new deserter before she burned it all entirely. Committing as much of it as possible to memory, just for her own sake, she always burned the files after the deserter was placed. It was safer this way, no paper trail. Files on a computer were too risky - paper could be burned, turn them to ashes and they’d all but disappear. 

“Ok. Well, it’ll take me a day or two to make the trip - the roads are horrible, you know, not to mention all the checkpoints.”

“That’s fine, Jamie. Just be careful, will you?”

Jenny ended the call, breaking the cheap flip phone in two. She glanced at the door, hearing nothing coming from the back room. Perhaps the woman had gone to sleep. She’d do the same - staying up for the Doctor’s arrival had thrown her schedule out of whack. Rubbing her face with her hands to cover a yawn, she blearily made her way to the stairs. She knew she’d done what she could for the time being, but she always felt as if she could’ve done even more. She nearly turned around to check on the woman once more, but decided against it. Hopefully her brother would make quick time, and she wouldn’t have to keep the poor thing in that room for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also check me out on tumblr: liusaidh-writing.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please don't get used to these quick updates. It's falling out of me for the time being, but I could hit a wall any time. Hope you enjoy!

Jamie quickly unloaded the two crates of eggs Jenny had requested. It was one thing that he had plenty of, and he was more than willing to share. He was eager to get inside, saying a quick hello to Ian before going to find Jenny.

He found her in the back room of the inn, with the doctor. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he found himself slightly taken aback as this deserter - though he hated using that word - as she stood in front of him wearing jeans that were slightly too big, and a wool sweater that swallowed the rest of her. He thought she had rather wild hair, and eyes that were wide, somewhat drained, yet he could see the rich whisky color of them, staring at him and his sister warily. She had a look about her - she was unnerved, yet determined to fight. He noticed she had her hands balled into her sweater sleeves. He tried to imagine her several years prior, whole and alive, but couldn’t see beyond the person in front of him.

His sister approached her, and he observed as she folded her arms in an act of self protection, hands still inside her sleeves. He wondered if she was as uncomfortable with all this as he was. At least he had the benefit of being the one to live in his own house, among his own things. She was at his mercy, and it shook him; the responsibility he’d agreed to take on hadn’t occurred to him until now. She was entirely reliant on him. He rubbed his cheek, averting his eyes to the floor. The woman was watching him closely now. He scratched his chin as his sister spoke.

“This is my brother, Jamie. He’s going to take you with him. He’s got plenty of room at his farm, and we think it’ll be safe for you there.” She paused, waiting for the woman to acknowledge her.

“She’s not stupid, Jenny. She understands,” Jamie cut in. “She may be tired, but I reckon she’s smarter than you or me.” Jamie nodded at the woman, ignoring Jenny’s scoffs. “You’ll be riding in my car, but we’ll have checkpoints to get through. How do we get you home safely?” He paused, not expecting an answer, then cocked his head slightly. “How do you feel about shaving your head?” 

Jenny’s mouth fell open, and the doctor just looked at him, a perplexed expression on her face.

Jamie earned a whack on his arm from Jenny. “Jamie, would you shut the fuck up! She’s just walked away from, literally, her entire life. Have some compassion. Jesus!” Jenny’s cheeks were hot, and Jamie fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“I have compassion. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I was only joking, trying to put some levity into this weird-as-shit situation.” 

“Oh, now you’re a comedian? Ha-ha. Just...be nice. I know you’re out of practice, but for once in your life…” Jenny trailing off as Jamie shook his head.

Jamie, ignoring his sister’s remarks, made to move toward Claire. She took a small step back, but cleared her throat to speak.

“I’ll not be shaving my head, thanks. I can ride under a blanket - it’s the way I got here, anyway.”

Her voice was slightly rough with disuse. Jamie knew two days spent mostly alone would do that. He glanced behind her, at a duffle bag and a coat on the floor.

“No need for that,” Jamie said. “You can ride up front with me.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile, but he somehow felt he hadn’t pulled it off, as she just knit her brow and frowned. “Are these your things?” Jamie asked, not waiting for an answer. He scooped them up, slinging the bag strap over his shoulder. “Follow me,” he said, and left the room, Jenny scurrying to catch up. They left Claire to come last, trailing behind them.

Jamie threw her things in the back of his car, slamming the door. He opened the passenger side door and beckoned to Claire to get in. 

“Jamie, it’s broad fucking daylight! How are you going to get past the checkpoints with her in the front?” Jenny splayed her hands in frustration, anxious about how reckless her brother was being while committing a criminal offense. 

“I’ll tell them she’s my wife. Easy enough.” He shrugged, unperturbed.

“They have records, Jamie! God damn it, you can be so thick! They’ll know who she is!” 

“Not the idiots they have at the checkpoints. Trust me. I just drove here, remember? Half of them were asleep. So much for ‘national security.’” Jamie rolled his eyes, yet again, eager to be on his way. Seeing that Claire had agreeably gotten in the front and buckled her seatbelt, he got in himself and started the car. 

\----------------------

Claire sat slumped in the front seat, worrying at the scar behind her left ear. This was a new habit, as the spot itched nearly continuously. She eyed her companion, making note of his fiery red hair, cat eyes, and general demeanor that told her he wasn’t someone she wanted to cross. His face was unshaven, and his hair was short, though she could make out a hint of curl in some places. She smelled the faint odor of barn animals on him. She figured he was over six feet tall, yet he seemed to carry himself with ease. He was clearly confident, and she wondered vaguely about his personal life, but chose to ask those questions at a later date.

“So, we’re in for a long drive - the streets aren’t well taken care of these days. Not to mention the snow. It won’t quit. I go to bed and wake up in the morning to a new sheet of the stuff. I’m sick of it.” 

She listened to him talk, his voice low and even. She found it somewhat comforting, and she eased back into her seat, letting the car’s vibrations and Jamie’s voice sooth her. Surprised by a powerful sneeze, she did her best to cover her nose and mouth. Jamie shoved a tissue into one palm and she mumbled a thanks. She watched as Jamie eyed her carefully, concerned.

“You're not sick, are you?” he asked slowly.

“I might have a touch of a cold, but if you’re worried about the virus, a runny nose and sneezing isn’t a symptom, so far as I know.” She wiped the skin below her nose carefully, and balled the tissue into her hand, keeping it for future use. She said no more, choosing to let the car lull her into a half daze.

She woke again some time later, feeling a hand on her shoulder. She did not know where they were, and the white landscape was devoid of any defining features. She rubbed her face and looked over at Jamie. He gripped the wheel tightly, crawling over the icy roads. 

“We’ve just about come to our first checkpoint. Don’t speak, just let me do the talking. It’ll be okay.” 

Claire could just make out an image up ahead, a small, hastily erected building built next to the road. It looked out of place, a metal box of human construction, and she couldn’t help but think of the poor soul who had to sit inside it, waiting for someone to drive by.

Jamie came to a stop at the window, then hastily placed a mask on his face. It startled Claire when he took her right hand, gripping it tightly in his own warm palm. She felt him rub circles around her thumb, wondering if he realized he was doing it. Instinctively, she squeezed his hand, appreciating the strength he gave her. Her breath was shallow, and she quickly thought to smooth her hair behind her left ear, reaching around with her right hand to curve her curls around the back of her ear, just so.

With the window rolled down, she felt the cold air intrude on their warm capsule, and she shivered, gripping Jamie’s hand more firmly. She didn’t dare look up, keeping her eyes on the floor of the car. She hoped her trembling wasn’t obvious. 

“My wife,” Jamie said to the woman who stuck her head out the window. “Her mother - she just passed. I’m taking her up to say her goodbyes.” Jamie whispered. Jamie gave Claire’s hand a quick squeeze as they waited for the woman’s response. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. Where, exactly, are you headed?”

“Oh, we have a long way. Up to Elgin.”

The woman’s mouth hung slightly. “Lord, be careful. Some of that road may not be passable at the moment. I’ll have to test you both. You understand.” She wrote something on a clipboard. 

Claire glanced at Jamie as he nodded in agreement. 

“Of course.” 

He shifted his hand, Claire’s grip loosening as he rubbed the top of her hand now.

“Love,” he said soothingly, “They’ll have to test you. Give her your finger, darling.” He unfolded her fist, pulling her arm slightly toward the woman. 

“She doesn’t like needles much. Do her first, get it over with.” 

The woman leaned into the car slightly, wiping Claire’s extended index finger with an alcohol wipe. Then the sting of the needle broke her skin. It didn’t hurt, but she chose not to look, afraid of meeting the woman’s eyes. She took a shaky breath in, pulling her arm back to her lap. She sucked on her finger briefly, then shoved her hand under her thigh. 

She waited as Jamie’s test was done. Both of them had negative results. 

“Can I ask a favor?” 

Jamie was talking to the woman again, much to Claire’s frustration. She got more anxious with every passing minute. She wanted to beg him to drive, but she bit her tongue, chewing her lip as she grappled with the urge to cry. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes, counting to ten and then back to zero to distract herself. She felt the fingernails of her left hand dig into her palm, picturing the small moon-shaped marks it would leave. 

Suddenly she jerked back, the car in motion again. 

“Well, we don’t have to do that again,” Jamie said. “She took pity on us, radioed ahead to tell them to let us go through the other checkpoints without stopping. Told you these people at the checkpoints know nothing. They’re the government's way of maintaining a sense of order. It’s all bullshit.” 

He tapped the steering wheel lightly with his thumbs, while Claire looked out the window, hastily wiping the tears that had collected on her lashes away before he saw. Her right hand was still under her thigh, and she could feel the tender wound left by the needle. She threw her head back in relief, watching Jamie’s left hand as it rested on the gearshift in the middle console. She resisted grasping his hand again, if only for the comfort it afforded her.

\--------------------------------

Eating snacks from a bag he’d had packed and stopping when necessary, they made their way slowly north, Jamie eager to get home. He was tired of the car’s stifling air. The heat was drying and stuffy, but without it they were cold. 

They spoke very little, Claire sleeping a lot of the way. He turned on the radio here and there, tapping his fingers to old pop songs, half hoping the music would liven his passenger a bit. He allowed her to sleep, though, when she wanted to, knowing the wooden floor of the inn hadn’t been too comfortable. He glanced at her now and again, her skin smooth and relaxed in sleep. He did not know what she’d been through, couldn’t imagine what she’d seen. He pulled at a bit of dry skin on his bottom lip, hoping his home would be enough for her. 

He went through a mental list of creature comforts he had prepared before leaving to get her, and he named them in his mind. 

Clean linens for the bed.  
Soap and shampoo.  
A fresh bath towel.

He hadn’t been sure what she’d have with her, and it was all he knew to do, so he had to be content with it. He hadn’t taken care of anyone in years - just himself, and if his growing facial hair was any indication, he wasn’t great at that. He scratched the hairs on his chin, not liking how they itched, but unwilling to gather the energy to shave. 

He looked to his left, recognizing the large oak tree that always greeted him, letting him know he was nearly home. He filled his lungs with air, letting it out slowly, as he took a right turn and started the long crawl up the gravel road that would take them to Lallybroch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \------------
> 
> Hope you are enjoying the story! Thank you for reading!  
> Please check me out on tumblr: liusaidh-writing.tumblr.com 
> 
> *I wanted to clarify, in case I'd inadvertently confused anyone, that the virus in this story is entirely fictional - it is not Covid-19. We learn a little about it in this chapter, and will get more information in later ones.*
> 
> \------------

It was late evening by the time they reached the farmhouse, Claire impressed by its size as they climbed out of the car. Built of stone, and obviously very old, the structure was solid, if a bit worn. Moss grew in cracks and crevices, while ivy climbed the sides, curling around windows and up along the high roof. The house seemed alive and warm. It looked welcoming, Claire thought, rather relieved they had not sent her to some small apartment, where she’d be alone - she’d lived like that for too long.

The snow on the ground reached the second stone step of five that led to the front stoop, where a wide double door hung on iron hinges. Jamie clasped the knob, turning hard to the right. Claire heard a click, and wondered vaguely at the fact that Jamie didn’t lock his doors. The wooden door squeaked as Jamie swung it open, Claire wincing a bit at the sound. 

Jamie led Claire up the stairs just at the entryway, their steps hitting the wood with synchronized thuds. He was carrying her bag, while Claire clutched her coat tightly in her arms. She scrunched her nose, getting a faint whiff of the hospital as she moved. She balled the coat tighter, taking it away from her face, and silently followed Jamie down a long hallway, lit with vintage light fixtures that flickered slightly as they came to life.. The corridor stretched the width of the house, and they passed several doors on either side of them. He came to a stop in front of the last one on the left. 

“I figured this should be your room; it’s the quietest spot in the house.”

He opened the door and placed her bag on the floor in front of a small fireplace. A large four-poster bed covered with a patchwork quilt filled most of the room, but a night stand on one side held a lamp. A small armchair sat in one corner, Claire noticing a stack of books on the floor next to it.  


Jamie motioned to a door on the far side of the room, and to an identical next to it.  


“The small closet for your things, and you have a washroom.” He scratched his head, thinking. “You’ve a towel in there, and some toiletries. I’m just down the hall. But don’t worry - if you snore, I won’t hear it.” A sorry attempt at a wink followed his feeble joke, and Claire hid a smile behind her fist. She dropped her coat on the bed and went to peek into the bathroom, seeing an old clawfoot tub with a towel draped on a rack nearby.  


Jamie cleared his throat, rubbing his neck. Claire turned, facing him.  


“This is more than enough. Thank you.” Claire’s hand flew to her left ear, her skin tingling with that incessant itch, as Jamie swung his arms awkwardly.  


“Sure,” he replied. Jamie pointed his thumb at the door. “I’ve got to go take care of some things. I’ll bring some firewood up - this place gets chilly at night, even with the central heating. Should’ve remembered to do it before.” He gave her a quick smile, and left her alone.

\---------------------

Claire arranged all her earthly possessions on the bed, and there weren't many. A toothbrush and toothpaste, her favorite purple hairbrush, a few items of clothing, and a small medical kit she thought to bring in case of emergency. She glanced back at the door, making sure she was alone, then pulled out her shoe box and the bright white lab coat. She had planned to leave it, but grabbed it at the last minute, stuffing it into the bottom of her bag, where it stayed mostly out of sight if the bag was opened. 

She'd gotten it the day she graduated medical school, a gift from her uncle, not long before he died. Fingering the metal buttons, she unfolded it. On the left pocket, now stained slightly with pen ink, her full name was embroidered in bright blue thread. 

Ms. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. 

Running her fingers over the letters, her eye caught a light red stain on the collar. Very faint, she'd never noticed it before. Her hand rubbed the spot behind her left ear, her skin tingling as she remembered: she knew it was her blood on the collar; she recalled the smell of the latex glove as her superior pressed his hand against her cheek, the sting of the procedure making her jump slightly. She'd been taken to the defunct dental wing at the hospital and thrust into a small exam chair. She'd done it willingly, convinced it was for her own good. 

Clutching the lab coat, Claire shook her head in an attempt to clear the memory from her mind, though she knew it was futile. She tossed the coat onto the chair in the room, then opened the shoebox. 

After burning her ID back at the inn, there wasn't much more inside. Taking up most of the space was a worn brown Teddy Bear, one button eye missing, lost long ago. She pulled it out, gave it a squeeze, and placed it carefully against one of the bed pillows. Beneath the bear was a nondescript flash drive and all the money she had left in the world. It wasn't much, and she wasn't sure when she'd need it again; she pulled out the envelope and set it aside. 

Catching the first glimpse of their faces in weeks, her breath hitched. She deftly picked up the one on top of the pile, running her thumbs on the dog eared corners smoothing back the damaged edges. She ran a finger over her lips, looking at her parents' faces way back when, as they sat on a park bench, beaming at the photographer. Picking up another one, she saw her Uncle Lamb, in a smart suit surrounded by red balloons. She’d taken this one on his 70th birthday. She sighed, half smiling at the memory. 

Claire went to the night table and pulled open the small drawer. She tucked the photos inside along with the envelope of cash and the flash drive. Closing it, she took a deep breath, steadying herself. She was hungry, exhausted, and grimy with travel and stress. She peeled off her sweater, the one she'd not removed for going on five days now. She smelled herself, a sour odor seeping from her pores. Removing her pants and undergarments, she walked to the bathroom, running her hands along her sides, where her hip bones were protruding. The sight of her own naked body was a shock; she’d never been so thin. She wondered about her weight, but didn’t find a scale on a short hunt through the cabinets under the sink. The bathroom mirror was small but spotless, and she took in her appearance with some hesitance. Dark circles were the only color present on her otherwise pale face. She tried to recall the last time she'd slept solidly, only remembering disjointed naps as the endless exhaustion weighed her body down with a heaviness that refused to leave her.

She opened her mouth wide, stuck out her tongue, wishing she had a penlight. The obsessive examination of her mouth had started near the beginning, when she first saw the sick patients for the first time. Sores filled their mouths - it was the first indication that one had contracted the virus. The pale spots formed inside the lips, cheeks, and on the tongue. Intellectually, she knew she'd just had two tests come back negative, but she couldn't help but check, one more time. She pulled down the inside of her bottom lip, then ran her tongue around her mouth, along the insides of her cheeks. It was all pink and smooth, as it should be. 

She turned and bent to fill the tub, thinking a warm bath would ease her tension enough to sleep a little. The water sputtered at first, then roared through the faucet, the steam rising as the water grew hot. She swished the water with her hand to test the temperature, then slowly lowered herself into the pleasant warmth.. The water swirled around her, kissing her skin like velvet. The sensation soothed her tired muscles, and she ran her hands over her breasts, down her torso, stopping at her navel. She let her eyes fall shut, feeling content and safe; her hands wandered down, between her thighs. She named the anatomical parts as she went, the clinical procedure grounding her. She grazed her knuckles along her clitoris, then moved down to her labia. She squeezed her eyes shut, desiring so much to allow herself to have whatever brief relief an orgasm would offer. 

Startled, she jerked her hand out of the water after hearing a faint knock on the bedroom door. She sat up, eyes wide. She heard Jamie say her name, then heard a thud on the floor - she realized he'd come back with the firewood.

Her stomach growling with hunger, she quickly ducked her head under the water. Taking a few seconds to enjoy the silent reverie, she came back up and got out. Her feet brushed the fuzzy bath mat as she dried off, her hair dripping onto the cold tiled floor. She glanced in the mirror once more, relief bringing a smile to her face. 

She’d made it out. 

\-----------------------------

Padding down the stairway, Claire heard noises coming from one end of the house. She crept silently along, past the foyer. She spotted a sitting room filled with books and a cozy looking sofa. It was still, but a fire flickered in the hearth. She moved on, stomach rumbling, hoping she’d find the kitchen without much difficulty. She spotted a few stray pieces of hay, tracked in from outside. Curling her still damp hair around her ears, she reached a well-lit kitchen, furnished with a large, long table with benches on either side. She eyed the counter tops, scattered with small items of life: tea kettle, utensils, cutting boards, and a rather adorable painting of a kitten hanging over the stove. 

“My sister painted that, among others. She’s quite the artist.”

Claire turned, seeing Jamie standing at the opposite end of the room from where she’d entered, hair askew and sweaty. She crossed her arms over her middle and smiled hello. 

“It’s very good.” 

“She’s done a few others hanging here and there, too. You’ll see her favorite subject was animals.” Jamie moved further into the room, smoothing his hair back. “Hungry? I can make us something so we don’t go to bed with our stomachs empty. What’ll you have?”

“Have?”

Jamie looked at her then, brow creased. “Take a look,” he said, pointing to the pantry door. “I can’t make us a four course meal, but I’m fairly good at tinned soup or jam on toast.” 

Claire pulled the door open and stood, gawking at the array of food items stuffed in the tiny closet. “Good lord,” she muttered. 

“Haven’t been able to make it to the shop in a bit, and it’s usually just me here, but I think you’ll find something in there.” 

“You’ve got a shop open?”

“On and off, depending on the weather. The old man who owns it stubbornly refused to shut down at the start of the pandemic. His wife got ill, and - let’s see - I think his daughter did as well. He didn’t, though, the lucky bastard. Anyway, I’m starved. I think I’ll do the tinned soup and toast - Sound good to you?” 

Claire was struck by the way he casually talked of the man’s family getting sick. She wondered how far removed from things he’d been here, living all alone like he had. Was it callousness, or simply that he had no idea the reality of the virus, or the impact it had on people’s lives? Having been surrounded by it for the last three years, she had a vastly different perspective.

Jamie grabbed a can of soup, and began preparing it on the gas stove. Claire took a seat, at the near end of the table, Jamie sitting opposite. She felt small next to him, and she was suddenly self-conscious about her appearance, having seen it briefly in the mirror. 

Drumming his fingers on the table top, Jamie looked at Claire - she could tell he had a question. 

“Can I ask,” he began, licking his lips. He absentmindedly scratched one hand with the other, his knuckles dry and cracked from the cold. “I hear what I hear on the news, you know, and I must tell you, I can’t quite grasp what you’re running from.” He spoke softly, and Claire watched as his mouth formed a frown. 

“I know what you must think of me,” she replied, eyes darting everywhere to avoid looking at him. “I’m not…” She stopped, trying to figure out how to continue.. Did he think she was a horrible person for abandoning her post? For failing to uphold her vow as a physician? She didn’t know what he’d heard, and part of her worried he wouldn’t believe her if she told him the truth. 

“Think of you? I… haven’t even formed an opinion - I don’t know you, do I? What I do know is that no one, no matter what the circumstances, just walks away from their entire life to come live with a man who’s a complete stranger; I figure you must have a damned good reason.” He shrugged, kindness behind his gruff exterior and frank way of talking. 

Claire took a shaky breath, finding the words she needed. She glanced at the pot simmering behind Jamie. 

“I think the soup’s done,” she said. Grateful for the distraction, she watched as he stood and filled two bowls with steaming hot soup and set them on the table before retrieving spoons. He sat back down, blowing on his bowl. Claire did the same, stirring as she settled on a response to his question. She took a sip of the soup, licking her lips, then went immediately for another. She watched Jamie, who was eyeing her carefully. She felt her cheeks go hot as she felt soup run down her chin. Swiftly, she wiped it away with her palm, glancing up at Jamie to see if he’d noticed. 

“It’s good,” she offered. She didn’t want to stop eating, but she felt him waiting for her to tell him what he wanted to know. So she did. 

“Have you heard a grown man cry for his mother because he knows he’s dying?” 

Jamie sat back, thinking. He’d not heard that, but he’d heard something eerily close to it. His mind swam with images conjured by her words. Blonde hair, wild and soaked with sweat, the girl’s hand gripping the bed rails hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She’d screamed, then. Screamed for her mother. He’d been pushed aside by nurses and tucked himself into a corner, where he could see it all. His girlfriend, young and pregnant, giving birth with little support - only him, and he was frozen with terror at the way she wailed. 

Claire heard Jamie clear his throat, and looked up. She watched as he rubbed his face with his hands, reminding her an awful lot of herself, wishing for some formula that would get rid of a particular memory. 

“Not quite that, but, erm, yes, I know what you mean.” 

Claire nodded. 

“Even if you hadn’t personally experienced it, we’ve all heard the war stories.” She took another spoonful of the tangy soup, trying to pace herself. “The hospital where I worked was a constant war zone. And not only was I trapped in said war zone, I - as a physician - was entirely useless. I was just a body taking up space, waiting to catch the virus, or die from exhaustion or,” she gestured to her empty bowl, “hunger.” 

Jamie swallowed hard. Confusion still etched on his features.

“You’ve obviously suffered. I’m not sure how, but I suppose it’s none of my business.” Jamie drummed his fingers again, furrowing his brow. “Why keep you there if you could do nothing?” 

Claire shrugged. 

“I suppose you could say the powers that be wanted to save face, make it appear as though things were being handled. Maybe they hoped we’d all eventually succeed. Perhaps they only wanted to quell any panic? I don’t know, really. There are many answers to that question, some right, some wrong.” 

Memories flooded her mind - being paraded out in front of a television crew one sunny day near the beginning of the crisis. Things were already wildly out of control as they wore plastic smiles on their faces. No one knew enough yet to know how the virus spread, and they’d all been put at risk, unknowingly. The microphones were thrust in front of her and her colleagues, as they recited what they’d been told to say, afraid to do otherwise. 

Jamie stood up, placing their bowls in the sink. 

“Up for something sweet?” He reached in the pantry, grabbing a loaf of bread and a jar of strawberry preserves. 

“Sounds wonderful,” Claire whispered, her hands shaking. She’d not said so much about her experience out loud, ever. It gave her an odd feeling of release, yet she still feared she sounded unhinged. She’d expected him to ask questions about some of her comments - they sounded surreal even to her. She was surprised by his silent acceptance. Clasping her hands together tightly, she stared at the table top. She heard him preparing the toast, her mouth still tingly after the hot soup. 

\--------------

Jamie watched as she ate the toast in three large bites. He saw hints of a smile as she savored the strawberry jam, glad to have thought of it. He made a mental note to save the jam for her to enjoy again later. Her eyes were heavy, but she looked more alive than he’d seen her since the room at the inn. She’d soon consumed three slices as they sat in a comfortable silence. He felt fatigue pulling him down, and he wished to go upstairs and sleep. After driving to the inn and back, then immediately going to attend to the animals, he was overdue for some rest. He stretched his arms over his head, yawning and not bothering to hide it. 

He suddenly heard Clarence braying in the back of the house - the chickens must be pestering him. He saw Claire jump at the sound as she swallowed her last bite. 

“What on earth was that?” 

“Shall I show you?” He motioned for her to follow, and he made his way to the sun room at the back of the house - a large, relatively recent addition that was surrounded on all sides by windows that looked out onto the farm’s snowy hills. Hay covered the floor, and he heard Clarence snort a greeting as they entered the room. The chickens clucked, flitting around in the small area in one corner of the room Jamie had set aside for them.

“They’re not...always in here, but the cold is just too much for them at the moment. I can put blankets on the horses in the barn, but Clarence here won’t have it. So I’ve taken to bringing him in here when the temperature gets too low. The chickens, too.” 

He watched as Claire’s mouth hung open in mild surprise. 

“There’s a mule in your house.”

“Come on, he won’t bite, will you Clarence? Say hello to Claire.” He patted Clarence on the neck as the mule shifted his weight. 

Claire nervously walked up to the animal, careful not to slip on the hay, and tentatively put her hand up, where the mule nudged it softly with his nose.

“See, he’s harmless, if a bit stubborn.” 

He saw laughter bubbling up through Claire’s mouth as she petted Clarence’s gray nose. His stomach fluttered, hearing that small sound, and he watched as a small dimple formed on one cheek, barely noticeable, just at the edge of her mouth. His fingers tingled as the urge to touch her, ever so briefly, fought with his sense of propriety. He clenched his fist tightly and looked away. 

“I’ll...I’ll have to show you the horses sometime. When it’s safe for you to be outside. They’ll like you, too.” 

“How many do you have?” 

“Three, at the moment. Sold two not too long ago.” 

“Oh, I see.”

He watched her continue petting Clarence, apparently enjoying the calm that surrounded them. Clarence snorted, shifting his weight again. 

“Well, I think I could fall asleep standing up. I better… head to bed.” He nodded at her. “Goodnight, Claire,” he said simply, and left her with Clarence. 

\-------------------

Claire bid goodnight to the animals and gave one more long glance at the pantry - full of so much food she couldn’t believe it. She quietly opened the door and spotted a box of crackers; grabbing it off the shelf, and feeling somewhat like a thief, she stole upstairs, stuffing the buttery snack in her mouth, one after the other.


End file.
